


Hearts and Houses

by ancarett



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancarett/pseuds/ancarett
Summary: Nevada learns how to move on after leaving House Baylor.
Relationships: Nevada Baylor/Connor "Mad" Rogan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Hearts and Houses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressearwig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/gifts).



"What?" I asked, although I had heard what Catalina said. I just couldn't believe what my sisters, what my entire family, was doing. To me.

"We're taking away your ability to contribute financially to the business, Nevada," Catalina said patiently, although the way that her fingers creased the sheaf of papers that she held out towards me indicated that her appearance of control was a lie.

Well, not really a lie. As a Truthseeker, I could sense that instantly with any speaker. With my sister, I didn't even have to use my magic. I just had to look at the way she held herself. Little Arabella stood at her right shoulder, flickers of worry tracking across her face while Bern and Leon sat uneasily at the table flanking Grandma Frida. Only Mom stood slightly aloof at the opposite door, her arms crossed and her expression utterly flat. That was her sniper training coming to the fore: I knew that she felt much more than she let on, but she was deferring to her daughters, the shareholders of the agency from which I was being sidelined.

It wasn't the individual expressions so much as their coming together that spoke to me, and it spoke louder than words. They, my family, were kicking me out.

Suddenly I was filled with urgency and a blazing anger.

"You agree with this, Arabella?"

My youngest sister nodded her head, blonde hair flying a little at the emphatic move. Catalina cleared her throat and Arabella was moved to speak. "I agreed with it, Nevada. You can investigate all that you want, but you won't be killing yourself trying to pay off House Baylor's debts."

I turned to capture the gaze of my cousin Bern. "You, too?" I choked out.

He clasped his hands in front of him. "Yes, Nevada. I agree."

His convictions rang deep and true in my magic sense and I staggered a bit. I'd always considered Bern my dependable rock in the craziness that made up our House. Although his pattern-recognition was only Significant, he was more than his magic. His support for Catalina's plan hurt me even more than Arabella's had.

While I considered this, Leon, Grandma, and Mom all added in their varying degrees of support. As the weight of their betrayal fell on my shoulders, I almost staggered. My gaze was drawn back to Catalina who nodded resolutely as she shoved the documents at me one last time. I grabbed them automatically.

"I guess I know where I stand with all of you," I ground out, spun on my heels, and left the family that had just rejected me in every way possible.

***

I don't remember how I got from my family's warehouse in Houston out to the house I shared with Rogan. I just know that I was there, sitting on the side of the bed and staring aimlessly out the window on the rain grizzling endlessly in what passed for a Texas spring. Then footsteps and a familiar shape interrupted the nothingness.

"Hey," the Scourge of Mexico said as he knelt in front of me, twining his fingers around mine before he lifted my fingers to his lips.

I dragged my eyes from the dismal landscape to meet his intense regard. Some tiny bit of my emotional paralysis lifted as he laid his cheek against my cold, numb knuckles. "Hey," I managed.

"Want to talk about it?" Connor asked. I sensed from the way he asked the question that he had gotten word of what happened. Probably Bug's unparalleled intelligence-gathering skills. I refused to consider for one minute that he had been part of the scheme to run me out of the agency I'd saved and which had consumed most of my life for almost a decade. No, Connor Rogan was my dragon: utterly and undeniably devoted to me, just as I was to him.

I considered his request. Did I want to talk about how my sister had torn the ground out from under me? "Not really," I finally said. "I think I want a nap."

"Okay," my husband said, as he started to work my arms out of my jacket. "I'll help you get changed."

I nodded slowly, cooperating as he slid my shoes from my feet then lifted me to a standing position. Soon I was in the t-shirt that he'd dragged over his head before pulling it down over mine. He lifted me in his arms and we were in our bed, his arms clutching me close to him. 

It felt as if I were cradled within the wings of a dragon, fierce and protective. I clung to that, to Connor, the only anchor left in my life, and then I willed myself into unconsciousness.

***

I heard quiet voices around me, one measured and reassuring as impersonal hands took my pulse. My mother's low tones eclipsed those as her cool touch straightened my sweaty t-shirt and combed back my hair.

"She'll be okay, Rogan," Mom advised. "She just needs to catch up on a month of missed sleep and kick the remainder of the flu. But thanks for allowing me to come along with your medical team to check on Nevada." She went back to humming a Quebecois lullaby I remembered from my childhood.

I sensed the familiar rumble of my dragon as Connor sat beside me on the bed. Almost, almost it felt worthwhile rising myself to full consciousness but then a hint of the remembered pain of my family's actions raced around the edge of my awareness and I dove back deep into the darkness even as I twisted to burrow into my husband's embrace

***

"Nevada? Nevada? Come on, you have to get up."

"Nuh," I croaked, pulling the blankets back over and around me.

"Nevada, it's been thirty-six hours. You need hydration," Connor's voice carried a wealth of worry with equal parts determination. "Take a drink, please."

I grumbled impotently as his arms gently lifted me out of the tangle of warm bedding. I struggled a bit against that, feverishly twisting my head from side to side as I screwed my eyes closed. I knew if I opened them, I'd have to face the awful hurt that I'd shoved away. But when the rim of a cool glass of water touched my lips, I knew that further denial was impossible.

I sipped cautiously. My mouth felt as scaly as flatland after months of drought: the liquid brought hurting awareness to unwelcome life.

"Bah." I twisted my head away, leaning back towards the bed and the inviting prospect of dreamless sleep.

"A little more." I sensed the steely major behind those words and grudgingly took several more sips, letting the water's smoothness extinguish the pain that it had awakened. Finally, I blinked my dry, sandy eyes open.

"Hey."

He smiled and it was as if an electric current filled the room. I couldn't help my own smile, but it fled swiftly as memories of my family's actions, Catalina's action, came racing back to my newly awakened awareness.

Nothing like being cast out from your own family to make you feel as if you're about two feet tall. I let my hands pull the sheet and comforter back up to my chin. "Enough, Connor. I'm supposed to recuperate? Let me recuperate."

A defeated sigh was my only answer as Connor lowered me back to our bed. The cup he had been telekinetically holding for me clattered slightly as it settled down on the nightstand beside me.

"No going back to sleep right now, Nevada," he warned. "Or I'll take you back to the hospital."

I knew that he wasn't idly threatening me with that. "All right," I grudgingly agreed, letting the bedding drop down to my waist.

Connor's white t-shirt that I'd donned several days ago was now rumpled and sweat-stained. A waft of ripe human flesh reached my nose and it wrinkled involuntarily.I glanced longingly towards the bathroom with our large steam shower.

"I'll help you there," my husband offered and I found myself smiling, brief and tentative. I slid my legs out from under the sheets but before I could put my feet on the ground, I was in Connor's arms, cradled close, and grateful for the security that embrace represented.

***

I wish I could say that was a turning point for me, and that I strode out of the shower a changed woman. Of course I didn't. I was still weak from my illness and stiff from several days in bed. More seriously, I still was aching in my heart and soul.

I didn't go back to bed, at least not right away. Connor changed the sheets while I set up a nest on one of the big sectional sofas. I found a baking show on one of our streaming services that I'd ignored forever but suddenly seemed to fill with appeal. A mug of hot chocolate appeared in front of me as Connor ghosted in and out of his office and I smiled again, slightly, when he joined me on the couch as daylight faded.

We ate dinner, something tasty he pulled out of the well-stocked freezer. I felt as if I could get used to this. At least until Connor dropped my messenger bag on the table in front of me after we'd cleared the dishes.

"Thought you might like your stuff. Your phone's been charged, by the way.

With that, he sat down beside me while I debated between glaring the bag out of existence (surely that was a House power that could come in handy?) and flouncing back to bed. Instead of either of those extremes, I settled for flipping open the bag's flap and pulling out my phone. I pressed the power button and it booted up smoothly. I waited. 147 text messages? Messenger chat icons popped up on the home screen from all of my family and the email counter hit four digits. Great.

Side-eying Connor who sat beside me quietly working on his tablet, I set myself to sorting through my digital existence. Email was easiest: I trashed a week's worth of advertising. When I hit the first email to my agency address, I froze, then scrolled past it. Heck, I was on vacation. Maybe permanent vacation from House Baylor Investigative Agency. No need to rush there.

After an hour, I'd dealt with everything except the family messages. I thought about powering the phone down and calling it an early night at 9:15, but after the last several days, I really didn't need that. And, anyway, guilt gnawed at me, at least on my mother's behalf. I remembered her checking up on me. She may have spent much of our childhood off doing her duty in the military, but she was there for me when she could. The least I could do was thank her for the favour.

I pulled up Mom's chat icon and skimmed her brief messages of love and worry. Tapping the phone against my lips, I thought, and finally managed something. _Thanks for taking care of me. Love you, too._

That was officially my limit for the night, though. I wasn't ready for bed but I wasn't ready to look at any more words from my family, especially not Catalina. Her betrayal still stung deeply. I powered down the phone, tossed it on top of my bag, and snuggled against Connor.

"You okay?" When I nodded, he smiled brightly enough to make my heart glow. I wasn't ready for everything, but I knew I wouldn't have to face any of it alone and that would be enough.

***

Over the next week, I slept less and lived more, but none of it took me out of our house. Admittedly, it was a vast space. After a few days and a quick visit by Rogan's medic, who pronounced me fit for light exercise, I began to work on recharging my magic, painstakingly sketching out an arcane circle with my own embellishments, in which I sat, allowing my magic to build up inside me. On the treadmill, at first I walked a mile or two before venturing a light jog which left me unexpectedly breathless. I guess there really was something to this flu.

Most evenings, Connor and I hung out on the sofa, side by side after dinner. I swapped back and forth between endless repeats of _House Hunters_ and some really crazy cooking competition shows. I caught up on everything else using my phone or my laptop. Everything, that is, except for my sisters and the whole part of House Baylor where they'd cut me right out. I'd spoken with mom and Granda Frida a few times. A few times my fingers hovered over Arabella's goofy chat icon, a cartoon cat with glasses, but never connected. That was still better than with Catalina: every day she sent me at least one message. Every day I dismissed it without looking.

And every day, I told Connor that I wasn't going to join him heading out of the house. Not yet. Maybe not ever. His brow creased deeper with each passing day, but I refused to worry about that. I had enough worries and resentment on my plate with my family and my sisters that I decided to deal with by not dealing with it at all.

That was, of course, until the other prime of House Rogan made it her business to get me going.

***

I was back on the sofa, vegging out after a light workout. Connor had left with the dawn, dealing with some long-delayed business concerns. I heard the side door of the house open and was automatically reaching my hands out to pick up my gun as well as push the alert, inwardly incredulous that Rogan's crack security team could have missed an invader, when I recognized the gentle whir of my mother-in-law's mechanized wheelchair. I knew why security hadn't caught the intruder. There wasn't one. There was only Arrosa Ramirez Rogan. I had to admit to myself, I was scared stiff.

I had a good relation with Connor's mother. At least, I liked to think that I did. I respected her enormously but I also feared her judgment. And here I was, snuggled in some fleece blankets and wearing a threadbare pair of pajamas, watching TV, instead of coping with my life like an adult. If I could have teleported myself to somewhere far, far away, I would have. Instead, I found some inner core of strength, laid aside the messy coverings, and stood to welcome my mother-in-law into my house, even while my knees shook.

Arrosa Rogan smiled and I knew that I was in trouble.

"Nevada," she said, as her chair smoothly stopped a few feet from my nest. "Invite me in for a little lunch, won't you? I think we have to talk."

I nodded as her chair whirred past me towards the expansive, open-concept kitchen. The oven, with front-mounted controls easy for Arrosa to operate without invoking her telekinetic skills, soon was heating some tamales she'd selected from our freezer while I'd excused myself for a much-needed shower. Freshly changed into jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, I joined her in the kitchen, preparing guacamole and drinks, before following my mother-in-law's directions to sit with her after we'd exhausted the banal small talk that I'd rustily attempted to offer. Arrosa picked up her glass of sparking juice and sipped deliberately, before replacing it on the table to turn and regard me.

"So, you have discovered why a Prime cannot claim two houses?"

I choked a little over my own drink and nodded resentfully. "My sisters, my whole family pretty much, just tossed me out rather than work to fix the problem. If there really was a problem," I grumbled.

Arrosa slid her hand along the tabletop towards me. "Oh, Nevada, there was a problem. You were killing yourself. I saw it, they saw it, Connor saw it. But every time that anyone asked you to slow down, you shoved their concerns aside."

I picked up my glass and drank deeply, more to have an excuse not to respond to the charge than to satisfy any thirst.

Arrosa nodded assessingly. "See, even now, you refuse to confront the truth. Which is ironic, given your magic, is it not? Your family was desperate when they resorted to shutting you out of contributing to the business. Even then, they chose the path that was least harmful to you. They still love you, they still acknowledge you, they only want to stop you pushing yourself beyond human limits."

Something inside me snapped. "Pushing myself constantly has been the only reason our agency, and now House Baylor, has survived at all! Don't tell me that what I did didn't matter!"

She twisted her lips to one side. "No one is saying that, Nevada. What they are saying is that you matter more than any amount of money, than even the survival of the agency and your house's independence."

Whatever I might have said was forestalled by the timer's buzz. Our tamales were ready. My mother-in-law exercised her telekinetic powers to quiet the beeping and release steam from the pressure cooker as I fumbled and failed to find some way to explain that no, that wasn't the point of all of this.

Instead of speaking, I sat and thought about what she said. What my family had felt and feared. The welcoming scent of tamales flooded my senses and, for the first time in days, I genuinely felt my appetite piqued. "Would you?" Arrosa asked, indicating the waiting food. I smiled. Her fine-tuned magic could have floated everything over to the table in an instant, but she was letting me step up. I pulled out some plates and utensils before refreshing out glasses and laying the food out before us.

I dug in, savouring the softness of the masa and the cumin-spice flavour of the pork and potatoes, melded with the mole verde. I gobbled down one and then savoured the next, while Arrosa quietly made inroads on her own serving. "I'll send over some more tamales later this week. Your stock in the freezer is running low."

I nodded unthinkingly before stopping myself. Arrosa often sent over home-cooked provisions for her son and I, wrapped up as we were in the overwhelming world of House Primes. But I wouldn't have that excuse any longer. "You don't have to," I countered. "I'll have more time now, after all."

Arrosa smiled wryly. "Hardly. You may no longer be contributing to House Baylor's bank accounts, but I doubt you'll stop investigating. You have a gift and you won't stop using it. And you have my son, and all of those parts of House Rogan into which you're already integrated."

She leaned back in her chair. "In fact, you could easily get yourself right back in the situation you found yourself, unconscious and alone, if you throw yourself fully at all of those endeavours without taking time to rest. Would you ride a horse to exhaustion and expect it to win a race the next day? No. Would you let one of your employees or your sisters push themselves beyond the limit, time and again, without stepping in? No. Yet, for yourself, there has been no allowances and no relenting."

"Connor pushes himself as hard," I muttered resentfully.

"No, he doesn't," his mother retorted. "Yes, I wish he'd be gentler on himself. Many of his people are under the mistaken impression that he doesn't sleep or have any human weaknesses. You and I know that isn't true. But one thing that I taught Connor, one thing his father never learned, was to take the opportunity to renew between crises. He does that not only for his magic, but for himself, body and soul. You are a big part of that, now. His time with you is as important to him as breathing. Don't put that at risk."

I pondered Arrosa's explanation while I finished the last of my tamales and cleared up our dishes. When I was done, my mother-in-law had moved her chair back out to the living room where my mess of blankets were neatly folding themselves into a basket beside the sofa. "You'll wash those, dear, won't you?" Arrosa advised as I took a seat on the tidied sofa. I nodded. It certainly smelled a bit fresher now in our house, and I felt truly energized with a good meal in me. Still, I wasn't quite ready to accept all of my luncheon companion's opinions without some pushback.

"You said that I refused to confront the truth. What truth? I know I wasn't the best patient there, when I got sick after the long stakeout, but I've been good now." An impatient hand waved up and down in front of me, indicating that I sat, clean, tidy, and fed.

"The truth that you can't live between two Houses, Nevada," Arrosa countered sadly. "No one knows better than I do, after all. My family's dream of a House based on my magic was hammered into me from the day that I was certified as a Prime. Yet when Connor's father came along, I was torn between my family's plan and my own dreams. Imagine how it would have been had I insisted we keep both dreams alive?"

A lot of the Ramirez relatives were horrible. I remembered, too well, how their quarrels and greed had disrupted our wedding. How my sisters, particularly Catalina, had moved heaven and earth to make that wedding happen smoothly, even recovering the Sealight when little Mia Rosa had been discovered to have taken the gem from the wedding tiara to decorate her beloved stuffed unicorn. The demanding grasp of the Ramirez family had contrasted sharply with the deep connections and affections in my own family as well as the unbreakable bond between mother and son in House Rogan. Even though she was now retired from Prime politics, Arrosa Ramirez Rogan remained fully committed to her son and his House.

My brow furrowed as I thought through future scenarios. How would it be when House Baylor finished its probationary period and its head was married to the head of House Rogan? House Baylor would never be seen as independent. Even now, all of the attacks on Rogan that had consumed so much of his time and focus, many of them had doubled down since House Baylor's registration. There was no way of disentangling the two while the two heads were married. And I wasn't about to renounce the love of my life, even for House Baylor's independence.

I stared at my mother-in-law with growing realization. "It really is one or the other, isn't it? But my sisters made my decision for me, Arrosa, and I don't know if I can forgive them."

That was the crux of the matter. My trust in my sisters had been shattered, particularly Catalina. They had turned on me rather than work with me. They had gotten a lawyer to write me out of our finances rather than work to win my trust.

Arrosa's dark eyes softened as she tilted her head to regard me. "It's not them so much as yourself that you're struggling with, Nevada. You realize you pushed too hard. You know that you terrified them, utterly. Your sister, Arabella, screaming and wailing in terror at the hospital. She was sure you were dying just like your father. Catalina, trying desperately to hold the family together, to see that you were healing while no other House was able to take advantage of House Baylor's weakness. And then to have you jump right back at the work that got you hospitalized, not even a day later? You know that was wrong, Nevada. You know that."

In my heart, I did. I had enough perspective now to see how desperately I'd clung to work as the one thing I could control and the one way I hoped that I could protect everyone. But all the money in the world wouldn't have been enough to keep my family safe if I were dead through overwork and they were devastated.

"What they did was harsh, but there's the expression: 'tough love'? That is what your sisters chose, rather than a soft love which would have enabled you to your death. And that they convinced the rest of the family to support their choice, well, it was done out of love. All of it."

With that, my husband's mother sat back in her chair and sighed deeply while I let my gaze unfocus. I had a lot to process. As I pondered, my phone vibrated silently on the coffee table before me. Automatically, I picked it up to see Arabella's ridiculous chat icon pulsing on my home screen. I called up her message. A cartoon sheep blinking ridiculous eyelashes placidly stared back at me, while in big block letters, "Miss Ewe" flashed below her. Despite my best efforts, I chuckled, and, without stopping to think, I texted back "Miss you, too, brat. Give Mom and Grandma a hug, too!"

I put the phone back down, still smiling slightly at my youngest' sister's irrepressible spirit, and looked up at Arrosa. "I think I see what you mean. It's, just, going to take some time to process."

"That's okay, Nevada. You'll find we can always make some time for what's important." Arrosa reached out to pat my hand before regarding me thoughtfully. "Now, you're still not fully recovered. I want you to rest this afternoon when I go home. Don't worry Connor into a decline, now? Then you'll really be in trouble."

After that affectionate but stern warning, my mother-in-law was off to the side door of our house, declining my help as her automated chair glided across the smooth tiles. Her own security team stood ready outside the door to assist her into her SUV and protect her as they navigated between the two properties. I waved goodbye as they drove off towards our front gate, then slowly made my way back into the house.

I ignored the television control and picked up an intriguing book on the adaptive geometry of arcane circles that had been sitting, untouched, for weeks on the coffee table. Maybe I would read for a bit and then nap before Connor's return. I had a lot to catch up on if I wanted to be at my best and, even if I couldn't directly contribute to House Baylor anymore, I could at least ensure that I, as part of House Rogan, was the strongest ally possible, ready for the inevitable fights ahead.


End file.
